I work in publishing and I like to read things. Herewith: free association on books, nice things I ate, publishing, editing, and other nice things I ate.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Robert the Publisher's Gem of the Day

Late last night, Robert and I were both still at work. He called me into his office and told me to sit, then gestured to the little black single-serving coffee maker by his phone. "Want a cup?" he asked.

"Um, ok," I said. I'm not the kind of person who should be drinking coffee after 10 am but I was already pretty nervous about what he wanted to talk about and didn't think declining was a good idea.

"Do you take milk?"

"Yes," I said apprehensively. Was he keeping milk under his desk? If so, how long had it been there? But then I saw the non-dairy creamer on the bookshelf and relaxed--a little.

I watched him plunk in the coffee pod over a mug he had produced from some dusty corner and stab the "brew" button with all the slow-motion precision of one's grandfather. "Well, we have a lot to talk about," he said. "We did not have very good news today, did we."

"Not really," I said. I was a nervous wreck; I had received what we'll call an unpromising piece of information about a book of mine that's supposed to be coming out in a couple months, and I was particularly worried about how I was going to get us out of the jam.

"Well," he said, placing the full hot coffee cup in front of him and popping the top of the non-dairy creamer open. "Bad things happen; people lie; reviews fall through. We hemmorhage cash over things we were sure would work beautifully, and just hope we make enough off of our strong backlists to survive. I'm not saying we want bad things to happen," he continued, tapping an awful lot of surprisingly gelatinous creamer into the cup in front of him, "nor should weexpect them necessarily, but we shouldn't fear them." He looked pensively into the coffee, where the non-dairy creamer floated stubbornly on top in two amoeba-esque clumps, then removed his glasses, folded one leg down, and submerged the lenses into the coffee, stirring briskly. When the coffee was good and... blended, I guess you'd say, he withdrew the glasses and tapped them observantly on the rim of the mug, then looked up to catch my eye. "What's the matter? Oh no, did you say you didn't want cream?"

"No, cream's great," I assured him, and took the proffered cup.

"Yes, well, as I was saying," he continued, pushing the glasses back up his formidable nose, "I have been in publishing a long, long time. I have published many books that failed, but I do not fear failure. You simply can't fear failure." He paused. "Are you afraid of failure?"

"More than anything in the world," I answered, before I could think it through.

"Huhn." Robert peered at me. A tear of coffee ran down his cheek and made a brown circle on his lemon-colored shirt. "Huhn. Well. This has been very interesting." He clasped his hands. "Well, you answered honestly, which is good. But tell me, what good does fear of failure do you?"

"It helps you pre-empt the worst case scenario," I replied.

"No, no, this isn't a rhetoric exercise," he said. "I want you to think about that, whether being afraid of failure really helps you. It must be awfully exhausting."

"It is," I said, thinking of the tightness in my torso and the wrinkles accumulating on my forehead, the anxiety and scrambling each week, the churlish re-editing and re-re-editing, the arteries hardening in my chest. I raised my swirling duatone coffee to my mouth. I figured the consequences of my fears had to be worse for me than the consequences of the coffee.

Now that I've spent the night thinking about it, I think that Robert's advice to me about being a book publisher really applies to anyone who wants to work in the industry in any capacity--but perhaps especially to writers. To sustain a state of high tension and desperation--you know, the kind the whole submission process usually creates--is not only physically exhausting, it's creatively exhausting. It also makes us less likely to make wise decisions when we're presented with opportunities. Paychecks aside--and let's face it, even the best-paid among us would-be publishing/published peeps don't make THAT much money--I think we survive by letting go of a fear of failure. Our desperation makes us lose sight of what we got into this for--in many cases, to write. Writing is the joy, and if you are joyful you have not failed. We should be happy when good things come about, but not live in fear that they won't.

Easier said than done, of course. But I'm going to make a conscious effort going forward.

87 comments:

Thanks to you and RtP. This is sage advice and it transcends publishing and can apply to virtually all industries. The greatest danger is that fear of failure will prevent you from even trying. That's a virtue I try to instill in my children.

Thanks, Moonie, I needed that. Like you, I live in constant fear of failure--as if I'm still going to be graded on my performance. I often think other people are judging me for my questionable decision to write full time when they probably just want me to be happy.

I have a great quote above my desk by Natalie Goldberg, "You will succeed if you are fearless of failure."

Failure can be our friend and our greatest teacher...if we embrace it as an experience to move through, rather than as something we actively seek to avoid. Here's a favourite quote dealing with failure:

"We learn wisdom from failure much more than from success; we often discover what will do by finding out what will not do; and probably he who never made a mistake never made a discovery." –Samuel Smiles

I'm not sure if anyone could remain a writer if they had a very active fear of failure.

You write a novel. It fails to interest anyone, because it's awful.You write another. It also fails completely.You write another. You get a few positive rejection letters, but fail to get any active interest.You write another. An agent is v. interested, but you fail to get an offer of representation.You write another. You get an agent, but fail to sell the book to a publisher.You write another. You get an offer, but you fail to get a living wage. Then you fail to get a decent cover. Then you fail to to get readers and fail to earn out.You write another.

Second Laurel's comment #3. I plan to hang onto this post's URL so that if anyone says, cynically, "Editors must not be able to write, otherwise they'd be writers," I can throw this in his or her face.

Personally, my fear isn't failure--not yet. My fear is never getting far enough to have a chance to fail. It's close to the same thing, but...after trying and trying and trying and still not having my name on a book's spine, I fear giving up. I'm not ready to yet--I'm still fighting the good fight--but I fear the day when I decide it's not worth it, and give up.

(And I know it's ever so easy to say "I'll never give up!" but the reality is...I might. If another decade passes, and my job becomes harder, and I start having kids...I might. And that's my fear.)

Wow Moonie! A Double Bonus Post - sage advice and a writing lesson in one! You built the tension from the first paragraph and the two separate arcs bouncing off each other cranked it up like a nuclear reaction. I ignored seven instant messages from my coworker while reading it. Result: I won't forget RtP's lesson any time soon.

Great advice! It's important for us writers to know that even if the book we're working on isn't a huge bestseller, there will always be another story waiting behind it to be told. If there isn't one, then we're not really writers ;)

I was more entranced by the fact that he put the glasses back on without cleaning them... I hate having dirty glasses -_-

However, the message was very clear about having fear of failure. My boyfriend gets extremely frustrated with me at times because of my own "fear of failure." If I share this blog's post with him (as I'm so apt to do) I know he's going to say "See, I told you so!" But it's worth it because this is a blog post worth sharing...I'm even going to share it with an old friend. Thanks moonie (and of course RtP for sharing such advice in the first place).

And timely. Last night I lay awake, first paralyzed by fear of not having paid bills on time, so got out of bed and went down to my laptop and paid three bills. Felt better, went back to bed. Then worried about fear of being working mother and not raising young whippersnapper myself. Then fear of massive earthquake and foundation of house cracking in two. Followed by fear of running out of water and making special mental note to self to stock up on gallons of water in garage--and canned food. But fear of having to eat disgusting canned ravioli and kidney beans for months on end. Then fear of having to move out of house while neighborhood recovers from foundation-cracking earthquake, and where we would go. Mother in law's house! Fear of her spare bedroom and how dusty it is. Fear of asking mother in law if she could please, if she didn't mind, clean that spare bedroom out--thoroughly? Fear of her not doing it thoroughly and then sneezing from dust.

Rick's right- this applies to just about everything. (The new job I started, for instance.)

When fear of failure dominates me, my world fades Things I Screw Up and Things I Don't Screw Up. It's a monochromatic existence. Refusing to fear (and for me, it's a choice) lets me view the world in ... well color, if I'm going to carry the analogy.

and it reminds me of something I read in a book about writing, One Continuous Mistake : Four Noble Truths for Writers by Gail Sher. She says, "If writing is your practice, the only way to fail is not to write." Very much in spirit with your Joyful comment. And I absolutely agree. I write because I love to write. I write because it's fun, because my characters keep me up at night and I love finding their journeys. As long as its fun, and I'm enjoying myself, it doesn't feel at all like failure.

I think I'm just starting to figure this out. While sometimes I can still be a big ball of nerves, I'm trying to be happy NOW with the things I have NOW. Now use fretting over the things I can't control.

Well, to echo many other people on this here comment thread, thank you for this post. It was timely for me as well.

Why do some of us have a crippling fear of failure, while others of us don't? I guess it's a nature vs. nurture thing. In my case, I was a hypersensitive perfectionist as a child, and my parents nurtured that so as not to "traumatize" me. Sometimes I wish they had pushed me a little harder, but oh well. Part of the fun of being an adult has been recognizing that my problems are, in fact, MY problems.

Fantastic post, Moonie. Simply fantastic. It's something I really need to remember when those lingering doubts begin to scrape away at my self confidence. I write because I love to write. Fear, of failure or others' opinions, should not enter anywhere into the picture.

"More than anything in the world," I answered, before I could think it through.

I'm sorry, but HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

And re: fear of failure, I will simply mention that a solidly bestselling--and I do mean household name kind of bestselling--author recently called the agency and talked to his/her agent for twenty minutes about his/her position on the bestseller lists. Nobody is exempt from the anxiety.